w pines. Four guns of the Horse Artillery
strove, too, to reach the place. They made it at last, over and through
the wild tangle, but so narrow was the clearing, made hurriedly to
either side of the path, that but one gun at a time could be brought
into position. Beckham, commanding now where Pelham had commanded, sent
a shell singing against the not distant line of smoke and flame. The
muzzle had hardly blazed when two masked batteries opened upon the rise
of ground, the four guns, the artillerymen and artillery horses, and
upon Stonewall Jackson, Stuart, and the staff.

The great blue guns were firing at short range. A howling storm of shot
and shell broke and continued. Through it came a curt order. "Major
Beckham, get your guns back. General Stuart, gentlemen of the staff,
push out of range through the underwood."

The guns with their maddened horses strove to turn, but the place was
narrow. Ere the movement could be made there was bitter loss. Horses
reared and fell, dreadfully hurt; men were mown down, falling beside
their pieces. It was a moment requiring action decisive, desperately
gallant, heroically intelligent. The Horse Artillery drew off their
guns, even got their wounded out of the intolerable zone of fire.
Stonewall Jackson, with Stuart, watched them do it. He nodded, "Good!
good!"

Out of the raking fire, back in the scrub and pine, there came to a halt
near him a gun, a Howitzer. He sat Little Sorrel in the last golden
light, a light that bathed also the piece and its gunners. The Federal
batteries were lessening fire. There was a sense of pause. The two foes
had seen each other; now--Army of Northern Virginia, Army of the
Potomac--they must draw breath a little before they struck, before they
clenched. The sun was setting; the cannonade ceased.

Jackson sat very still in the gold patch where, between two pines, the
west showed clear. The aureate light, streaming on, beat full upon the
howitzer and on the living and unwounded of its men. Stonewall Jackson
spoke to an aide. "Tell the captain of the battery that I should like to
speak to him."

The captain came. "Captain, what is the name of the gunner there? The
one by the limber with his head turned away."

The captain looked. "Deaderick, sir. Philip Deaderick."

"_Philip Deaderick._ When did he volunteer?"

The other considered. "I think, general, it was just before
Sharpsburg.--It was just after the battle of Groveton, sir."

"Sharpsburg!